


Unconventional Methods of Worship

by Beanwhile



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Biting, But they're totally cuddling, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Fraternization, Frottage, Grinding, Haircuts, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, However they want to call it, Humor, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Morning Cuddles, They think they're not cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6553990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanwhile/pseuds/Beanwhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lieutenant Mitaka surprises Millicent and General Hux with a sneaky, unorthodox haircut. Millicent is very pleased. Hux even more so. They appreciate the gesture, each in their own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconventional Methods of Worship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildcursive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcursive/gifts).



> Once upon a time [wildcursive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcursive) sent me [this photo](http://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/cat-hairstyle-shaved-back-head-katichka-4.jpg) suggesting that Mitaka does the same to honour Millicent (so an orange kitty on Mitaka's already black hair). There was some heavy exchange of headcanons and then I sat down to write this based on the conversation.  
> This fic is based on the educated guess that Millicent is a military genius (a millie-tary genius, if you will) and basically runs the entire Order while Hux is HR, but of course no one even suspects that.

                “Sir, your request is against regulation,” the droid protests, as expected. Mitaka tries not to sigh or show reluctance.

                “It isn’t,” he argues. “If you do exactly as I instruct you there will be no visible deviation from the regulation-recommended cut.” He has come prepared, and will have his way.

                The droid whirrs its motors in mild confusion. “Sir, if it’s not going to be visible, I fail to—“

                “Undergarments are also not visible, however all personnel is required to wear them,” Mitaka interrupts. He has precious little time to argue before he’s required at his work station. He doesn’t even want to think about someone walking in on him arguing with the droid.

                “Sir, if your undergarments are—“

                “My undergarments are _not_ the topic of this discussion.” Mitaka purses his lips to prevent a huff of exasperation. “It was an example. Would you kindly hurry up, I cannot be late for my shift,” he urges.

                “As you wish, sir,” the droid concedes. It does not bother to conceal its disapproval of the order.

                Mitaka wonders how engineers slip so much sass in droid programming. Perhaps an excess of brass affects conversation protocols.

                Cool metal presses against the back of his head, and he has to suppress a shiver of anticipation. While the droid snips, combs, and dyes, Mitaka entertains himself by trying to imagine the gingers’ reaction to the result. Millie is going be pleased, no doubt, but Hux wouldn’t react to it, at least not in public. What he would say to Mitaka in private is another matter, and a good subject of daydreaming.

                ***

                Millicent knows as soon as she sets paw on the bridge.

                It’s the middle of the second shift, and General Hux comes to inspect their work. Millie is with him: Mitaka can sense the shift in mood she brings with her. It’s barely perceptible and as such a bit hard to describe; if he had to use a word he’d say it’s _animation_. The gingers stride in, their manes even more vibrant against the dark background of the bridge, their favour much desired though rarely bestowed.

                Millicent, like Hux, likes no one in particular. Unlike him, she enjoys inconveniencing just about any officer, Mitaka included.

                She bumps her behind against Mitaka’s boot to make her presence known. Between the two of them it’s a gesture of affection, but that’s a secret he wouldn’t spill even under merciless Republic interrogation. He concentrates on the screens in front of him, on the streams of data he has to follow while four swift paws climb him like a toy. Millicent lies on his shoulder like parade uniform decoration and paws at his neck and the back of his head.

                Unless an officer other than Hux passes by behind them, he should be safe.

                Millie’s unusual and persistent attention towards an officer—a human being, instead of their warm, much-preferred console—soon brings the General over to them.

                “Millie,” he coos, and it’s impressive to hear him show affection towards her without seeming weak, or any less intimidating. “Don’t bother the officer _too much_.”

                Millicent ignores him. Her cool nose has found what she’s been looking for when Hux pries her off. The warmth and weight of her body disappear from Mitaka’s shoulder. Something brushes against the back of his head, most probably her paw, and in that moment he knows the General has seen Mitaka’s little disobedience. He all but vibrates in excitement.

                Hux doesn’t linger, doesn’t give Mitaka any sign he has seen the tribute. He goes on with his inspection, stopping and exchanging words with some of the other officers, and then leaves without a word, as is his habit. Millie is stubborn, and stays for a nap on top of Mitaka’s console. She gives him a knowing look, and he smiles at her before turning his full attention to the task at hand. Millie paws at the screen a couple of times, but otherwise leaves him to work in peace.

                ***

                She is more pleased than he could’ve possibly anticipated. A row of mornings find him facing his pillow with Millicent either lying on his head or pawing at the image as if inspecting it.

                It means those nights the General has slept all alone, and Mitaka knows that is unacceptable. He finds it unacceptable himself, even if aware he cannot move to Hux’s quarters. Mitaka’s room _cannot_ contain the three of them and the gingers’ collective egos, and does not even bear consideration.

                A day later he receives a private message on his datapad: he’s invited to the General’s quarters at the usual time. It’s recommended, the message reads, that he brings Millicent _back_ if she’s with him.

                ***

                The morning after finds him warm and sleepy, his backside snuggled against General Hux. His mind drifts towards consciousness, though not as fast as to prevent him from enjoying the peace and pleasure of sharing a bed with someone before an alarm demands his attention. His hair is carded through; something nuzzles against the forehead of the hair-cat. He knows that because he had spent a lot of time tracing every line with his nail until he had memorized the exact placement.

                “Millie. Too early,” he murmurs. His jaw and tongue struggle to produce delineation between the words and he can hear the blur, but cannot do much about it. Besides, there is no stopping Millicent from whatever she means to do.

                Softer and bigger than a cat’s nose, the thing presses harder. Lips, it’s lips, the thought threads through his brain slower than a stationary TIE fighter.

                “I’m flattered, but it’s only me.”

                Mitaka sometimes wonders how his body reacts to General Hux before his mind does. He assumes he’s somewhat conditioned; but the General does not abuse it too much, and Mitaka minds very little.

                The deep, thick-with-sleep near-growl of General Hux’s morning voice runs near palpable through Mitaka’s body like a caressing, demanding hand, and then shoots into his brain to put in order his awareness of what is happening. He’s lying on his side, his back is pressed against the General’s torso while Hux’s lips kiss his neck. Millicent has made herself at home in the space between one of Mitaka’s arms and his chest. He gives Millie a light squeeze, momentarily weak with affection towards her. He has grown attached, though he tries not to show it too much. He knows that she knows; she uses it against him often enough.

                Millicent tickles his face with her tail. She puts one paw on his nose, another on his cheek, stretches them, and slinks away. When she’s off so fast it usually means bad news.

                Hux caresses Mitaka’s hip and slides his fingers to his belly. His mouth blows a warm breath over Mitaka’s hair and plants a line of kisses down his neck. Mitaka supposes this is how he shows appreciation for the tribute. There is a lot of “I know that you know that I know” between them. Its self-reflexive nature makes their relationship a quiet one, or at least Mitaka feels it to be so.

                When it comes to asking for attention, it goes like this: Mitaka lays small traps for Hux to fall into. Hux watches him do it. Most of the time, he strides right into them as if they belong to him the same way the flagship belongs to him. Sometimes, he circles around, playful, deciding on an entry strategy. Always, he drags Mitaka with him for being cheeky.

                Mitaka musters his courage, and asks: “What is your opinion, sir?”

                Hux takes a moment. “I like it,” he whispers, and presses another kiss against the cat’s forehead. His voice is still raspy. Mitaka would do just about anything to hear more of it, even if Hux read regulation to him, or gave a morale speech for the troops and personnel.

                Hux’s lips drift down to Mitaka’s neck again. The palm returns to his hip and clenches into a vicious grip to keep him in place. There is a hardness pressing against his ass, and he arches his lower back to rub against it. Hux groans, and pulls Mitaka’s body flush against his. He sinks his teeth into Mitaka’s flesh and Mitaka gasps when the sharp edges press into the muscle, sending white-hot pain through his neck and shoulder. To his mild shame, his morning erection demands urgent attention after such a cocktail of pain and pleasure.

                Hux lets go and noses at the crook between Mitaka’s neck and shoulder. His hand goes under Mitaka’s tight black shirt and reaches up to his chest. The material bunches at the wrist, exposing Mitaka’s torso. The General squeezes Mitaka’s pectoral with fierce lust; the tips of his fingers press hard against Mitaka’s breastbone and for a moment it feels like Hux wants to rip him open and squeeze his heart instead. Mitaka closes his eyes and breathes in against the grip.

                Hux relaxes his fingers and swipes his hand down, caressing Mitaka’s abdomen on the way, and pulls open his underwear. He slides the elastic band to the shaft of his cock; it tugs up at the skin, but otherwise holds. Mitaka shudders. He feels exposed, bared for Hux’s imagination and touch. The General’s hand roams all over him while his mouth launches a vicious attack on Mitaka’s neck.

The fingers explore his neck, his jawline, and upon finding his parted lips, four of them jam into his mouth and press into his tongue. He opens up and licks, but his mouth is dry this early in the morning. He thinks about Hux’s cock straining against his underwear, Hux’s morning voice, the skin on his knuckles, and his mouth fills up, bathing the digits that ram as far in as Mitaka’s gag reflex would let them.

                Just as he gets used to the intrusion, and the memories of sucking the General off in inappropriate places make his saliva overflow and dribble, Hux retracts his hand. Strings of spit stretch and break over the side of Mitaka’s face. The back of his underwear is also pulled down, and Hux thrusts the wet fingers between Mitaka’s buttocks, spreading the slickness.

                Worry jabs at him. Hux is done too fast with preparation.

He takes hold of Mitaka’s ass and slips his cock in the wetness. He pushes up and down with no seeming intention of actually going _in_ , bucking his hips and grunting. Such basic rutting draws a tattered gasp from Mitaka’s mouth and he grinds his ass against Hux for more friction. His cock leaks precome against his belly, still held steadfast by the band of his underwear.

                Hux presses his forehead against the nape of Mitaka’s neck. His cock becomes rock-hard and he comes without a sound, the only sign of his relief the warm trickle over and between Mitaka’s buttocks. He can almost hear the General biting his lower lip to prevent any noise from slipping out. His fingers loosen their grip but remain on Mitaka’s ass. Mitaka reaches back to caress his thigh.

                Hux takes hold of the hovering hand and guides it onto Mitaka’s cock. He squeezes the fingers to bend them in, and the exercise becomes clear. Mitaka grips his shaft and lets Hux guide him to his own orgasm. Short precise strokes, light squeezing at the head, and soon Mitaka is panting and coming. He bucks his hips into the joined grip and Hux lets out something like a quiet laughter in his ear, making the experience one of the less forgettable ones. The General could be quite indulging when he wants to.

                There is silence, save for their panting. Hux entangles their legs together. “Was your plot successful, Lieutenant?” he inquires.

                “Quite, sir,” Mitaka reassures him. They’ve let go of his cock but Hux’s hand still covers his.

                The first time Hux had done that Mitaka had thought they would hold hands or something equally unbefitting their off-duty relationship. With time, he has learned it’s another way for Hux to exercise physical control.

                “Thank you for your thorough assistance in the matter.”

                Hux hums at such brass but lets it slide.

                ***

                Hux wakes up to a foreign body in his bed too big to be Millicent. It takes him a moment to remember he had invited the Lieutenant to spend the night again, something he’s still getting used to, even if it’s far from unpleasant. His heart, already anticipating a drumroll, thuds against his chest one more time and begins to slow down. His exhales tickle Millicent’s ear and it twitches to shake off the disturbance.

                Lieutenant Mitaka is… small, for the lack of a more appropriate word, though his other qualities make up for it. He is rather soft, and agreeable to the touch. He is bold enough to hold Hux close to his chest; his firm grip is physically reassuring. Being in the Lieutenant’s arms gives Hux pleasure akin to the one he feels when he puts on his greatcoat. His body is secure; his mind is at rest.

                Mitaka is an unfamiliar sort of indulgence, though, and at times difficult to resist. To make matters worse, the Lieutenant is ready to indulge him at so much as a glance from Hux.

                Fingers run through the hair on the back of Hux’s neck. He appreciates how calculated the movement is. Not too shy, but not demanding either. The tips of the fingers press against his scalp and dissipate a tension he hasn’t been aware of. The length of the digits parts his hair and makes it a little messy, though nothing a comb cannot fix.

                Mitaka draws a line of kisses over Hux’s neck, from the hairline to the hem of his shirt, imitating the tease and petting from a previous morning. He presses harder against him, and Hux allows him to press a leg against his.

                “Lieutenant?” he inquires.

                “Accrual from the other morning. Sir,” Mitaka murmurs in Hux’s hair, and the latter considers the word choice. He tries to snuggle Millie, but she puts her paws against him and sneaks away, scandalized by such treatment so early in the morning. With her out of the bed, he finds it even harder to refuse Mitaka’s physical advances. Hux knows he could stop the game at any time, and with that excuse at hand he allows it to continue.

                Mitaka rolls him onto his belly, straddles his ass and grinds his cock against it. Demonstrating combat preparedness, he has placed weight just where it’s needed to prevent Hux from throwing him off. The Lieutenant bends down and mouths at Hux’s neck, keeping his teeth away from the flesh not covered by uniform. He knows better than to leave marks of his appreciation.

                “Are you trying to prevent me from attending to my duty, Lieutenant?” Hux manages to string together a sentence, not bothering to clear his throat. His ungroomed morning voice is something Mitaka has a weakness for. Another grind against his ass proves him, as per usual, in the right.

                “Will stop at your command. Sir.” Mitaka’s _sirs_ come after weighted pauses, enough to make them sound like an afterthought, like another little disobedience. Hux allows it; he can be benevolent in the mornings. Nothing of this hurts his ego or rank, especially not the way the Lieutenant grinds against him and runs his hands over the rest of his body in silent admiration. Lieutenant Mitaka can revere the military rank separate from the body, and keep those two neat and well apart. Hux likes such neatness.

                He buries his forehead in the pillow and tempts Mitaka with more exposed skin. “Very well,” he concedes. Mitaka all but pounces at the permission. He shifts his weight and with it pushes Hux forward, making Hux press his already aroused state against the bed. Hux parts his lips at the influx of pleasure. He grinds his hips between the bed and Mitaka, trying to get more from both. The Lieutenant takes his wrists and pins them on the sides of his head.

                Hux surrenders to another morning of quick indulgence. It does improve his concentration throughout the day, he thinks. Mitaka milks him out with the diligence he applies to any other given task.

                He wonders, idly, if he’s not letting the Lieutenant spoil him, before a well-placed bite wipes his mind of the thought. Mitaka is a promising officer serving on the _bridge_ before he’s Hux’s off-duty pastime, but who’s to stop Hux from making the most out of both aspects? If he’s decided to fraternize with a junior officer he might as well do it with someone _competent_.

 

 

                Millicent lies on the neat pile of clothes that is Mitaka’s uniform and squints at the men half-miffed, half-amused. She will allow them this much after Mitaka’s wonderful surprise. It had been a rare flattery, and she is once again pleased with the mate she’d chosen for Hux. The Lieutenant is full of pleasant surprises, and she already anticipates another one.

                Once they lay on their sides, legs entwined and bellies pressed as close as possible, the only movement the flitting of Mitaka’s hand between them, their coupling will swiftly reach its end; then, she can go back and demand their undivided attention. Worship is hard work, she’s been told, and if they want to keep up they better start early.


End file.
